


Face the Rain

by Victorious56



Category: RWBY
Genre: Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorious56/pseuds/Victorious56
Summary: Clover and Qrow have been together for some time now, but the cracks are starting to show.❖Don't you knowWe're still goldJust another day we made mistakesFace the rainDon't walk awayThere's another chance to set it straightIt's not too late to turn back homeAnd we were never meant to be aloneYou know we've got each otherPaint It Black - Andy Black
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Face the Rain

Clover let out a sigh as he closed the door behind them. "Well, that could have been worse."

"Could it? Are you sure?" Qrow's face was impassive as he glanced at his husband. "Seemed pretty bad from where I was sitting."

They walked slowly down the corridor, away from the pale wooden door, away from the lettering on it, which read:

**_Fresh Start_**

Relationship Counselling

❖

Qrow and Clover had been together nearly six years, four of those as a married couple. They had seen out the Atlas War together, sharing their grief for those who did not survive the terrible struggle, which eventually ended with Salem's death.

They had seen out the birth of a fragile peace, the various factions struggling to shape the world in their own fashion, until compromise triumphed.

And they had married, quietly and without fuss or excessive celebration. It had not seemed right, in the aftermath of all that had happened.

And they had been happy. Initially, deliriously so. Swept along by the heady euphoria of their intense feelings for each other. Feelings which neither had anticipated, but each had welcomed, embracing the situation fervently.

Time had quieted the potency of their emotions, as it always does. A gentler love had replaced those intoxicating moments— equally meaningful, but less heated. They had moved to Patch three years ago, when Clover had left the military. Following a short break, enjoying the novelty of setting up home together after far too long living in barracks, they decided to work as Grimm bounty hunters. There were still far too many of the monsters roaming the wild, often encroaching into inhabited areas. It would be some time before professional Grimm hunters would need to turn to other work.

❖

It had stolen up on them insidiously, a creeping realisation that all was not well. Little quirks of behaviour, laughed off previously as of no consequence, became irritations which refused to be soothed. Like a rash which never quite clears up, sometimes flaring into a heated argument before subsiding, with apologies and tears on both sides.

But irritations which never quite go away, can develop into permanent abrasions which constantly chafe and worry at a person. Small disagreements become major altercations; short spells of non-communication become hours of silence, a wall of division.

Two hunters who work in partnership cannot operate in such an atmosphere. Two hearts which once slotted together so seamlessly, do not thrive in that cold climate. And two men, who thought they had found a safe home for something shared and precious, began to doubt.

❖

Clover showed Qrow the flyer which had been pushed through the door, along with one for pizza delivery and another for window cleaning services.

"Should we try this?" He tried to keep his voice level, even though he wanted to shout at Qrow, "I still love you and I can't bear this, please please can we try to fix things?"

Qrow picked up the flyer and scanned it, his brow wrinkling. He dropped it on the table, without meeting Clover's eye. "Probably won't help, but it can't do any harm I suppose." He glanced at his husband. "Fix up an appointment if you like." Qrow wondered why he couldn't say what he was thinking. _Please gods help us out of this, I don't know how and I just want things to be the way they were._

"Will do." Clover cleared the table and began to stack the dishwasher. Qrow left the room.

❖

The first counselling session had been difficult. Qrow had always had a problem with sharing... well anything, really. The casual, indifferent front he'd presented for most of his adult life had suited him. Not getting close to others, not laying his feelings out to be picked over, was the way he liked to play it. This was fine until Atlas. Until Clover. Someone who had been able to get Qrow to show himself, reveal his thoughts, his desires. Qrow had been reluctant, evasive, and then terrified as he realised what was happening. By then, it was too late. He had fallen for Clover so hard, every protective layer shattered around him. The tenderness which Clover had shown him, the lightness of touch, the delicate hand, meant Qrow was immersed before he knew what was happening.

Clover had no such difficulties. He was used to dealing with others, discussing, talking, negotiating. Qrow had sat in the comfortable armchair in the counsellor's office, staring at the vase of flowers on the low table, wondering how Clover could just keep talking. Talking about how they had met, how they weren't sure of each other initially, how they grew closer, how Clover had not wanted to rush Qrow, how Qrow was reluctant to commit himself...

Qrow stole a glance at Clover, as he leaned forward in his armchair, slightly frowning as he recalled every halting step of their journey. Clover only shed tears on two occasions, the counsellor silently nudging the box of tissues across the table towards him. Qrow heard every word Clover said, recognised each event he described. And when the counsellor turned to him, a slight smile on her pleasant face, he could not bring himself to say anything. Nothing important, anyway. The emotions which were scratching away at him, flaying him from the inside, remained unspoken.

"We'll stop there, I think." She shuffled the papers on her lap, looking from Clover to Qrow. "I'd like you both to undertake a small exercise for me, and bring the results to our next session."

Clover looked interested; Qrow looked aghast.

"Each of you, look back to the beginning of your relationship, when you started to develop feelings for the other. Write down what you remember thinking about the other person during those early days. And bring what you've written with you, when you come for your next appointment."

❖

A tense week followed. It wasn't that Clover and Qrow had grown to hate each other. There was no _third party_ , no _unreasonable behaviour_. Their marriage had become comfortable, and progressed to mundane, before either of them had realised. Now each was struggling to reverse the trend of disregard, of barbed comments. Neither was brave enough to make the first, tentative step toward the other, and they continued along their painful path.

As they settled into their armchairs, the counsellor poured two glasses of water and set them on the table. She sat back, placing her hands in her lap. After a moment's silence, she said, "Who would like to go first?"

Both men looked at her in alarm. "To read out your piece of homework," she smiled.

Clover and Qrow looked at each other, an exchange which lasted longer than any had over the recent weeks. Clover saw for the first time, the tiredness in Qrow's eyes, the extra lines on his face. He swallowed hard, feeling a sting behind his eyes as he looked away.

Qrow remembered the confident soldier who had arrested him, so many years ago. Clover's eyes now wore a beaten look, an admission of defeat. Qrow asked himself how he had managed to miss the transition. He wanted his old Clover back.

"Uh, I will, if you like." Clover raised an eyebrow at Qrow, receiving a small nod in return.

Clover took a sip of water, pulling out his scroll and tapping on the screen. Qrow couldn't help the small smile which twitched at his lips. _He's got it on his scroll. Of course he has._ He wondered why his mouth felt stiff. _I haven't smiled in quite a while._

Clover coughed, angling his scroll away from the window. "Okay then. I hope this is the kind of thing you wanted." He flicked a glance across the table.

"All I want, is for you to have written what is truthful to you."

"Right, well. Qrow," he looked again at his husband's face, "this is what I remember." Another cough, another sip.

"When we first met, it wasn't in the best of circumstances. You were really hacked off with me, even though I was only doing my job. I understood why, later. But I was annoyed, because I was attracted to you from the start, and I thought I'd blown it. So when we began working together, I couldn't believe my luck." Clover paused, glancing at Qrow. _Is that a tiny smirk on his face? Haven't seen that for a while..._ "Anyway, we seemed to be getting on better, and the more time we spent together, the more I knew I wanted our relationship to become serious. Although we were hardly ever serious with each other." Clover stopped, taking a sip of water, before sniffing a little as he continued.

"And I was so happy when we started dating. Then getting married, it has meant so much to me. You are a cantankerous, brave, moody, gorgeous, sarcastic, loveable man. Every day I've spent with you has brought me happiness. At least, until it all started going wrong." Clover put his scroll down, pulling several tissues from the box and blowing his nose loudly. He could not bear to look at Qrow; he didn't want to see rejection in his husband's eyes. When he felt Qrow sit on the arm of his chair, pulling him into an awkward hug, he still could not look. He buried his face in Qrow's lap, sobbing noisily.

Qrow glanced across at the counsellor. "Is this how it's supposed to go?"

"There is no right or wrong way. It goes however you both want it to."

Qrow gave her a flat look, before muttering something as he bent over, stroking Clover's hair in a way that hadn't felt right in a long time. "This is all too Zen for me."

Clover stifled a laugh against Qrow's leg. He raised his head, still sniffling. "I got your trousers damp."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Qrow's eyes met his, and for a moment both men were locked in a desperate, frenzied embrace in a store cupboard many years ago, when the heat of desire had led to things getting just a little out of control.

Clover blushed. "Surprised you remember that."

"I forget nothing." Qrow didn't want to look away from Clover's face, didn't want the moment to break.

There was a small cough. "I believe we are making progress. And now, Qrow, it's your turn."

Qrow pushed himself to a standing position, eyes still fixed on Clover. With an effort, he turned and sat back in his chair. Clover blotted his face, looking sideways at Qrow. _Do I dare to hope?_

"Uh, this is like Beacon all over again." Qrow rubbed his hand through his hair, before pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Two pairs of eyes looked at him enquiringly.

"School, you know? If I didn't catch all the details when the homework was given, and came in with the totally wrong thing the next day." He looked at Clover. "You wrote that... stuff about us, and it was really— moving. And I've got this." He flapped the piece of paper at them.

"As I said, Qrow, there is no right or wrong way to do this. As long as it is the truth."

"Hmph, well, it's true all right. Just not very... eloquent." He unfolded the sheet of paper, glancing at Clover. "I took a bit of a different approach. And I didn't realise I'd have to read it aloud. Just don't laugh, okay?" He cleared his throat.

**C:** Clearly the only man I could ever love

**L:** Listens to me drone on when I need to sound off about something, and doesn't complain

**O:** Obviously the kindest, cutest, most handsome, sweetest, most gorgeous, caring person in the world

**V:** Very good in bed. I mean very, very good

**E:** Everything I ever wanted, and still want, although I didn't know it at first

**R:** Really good in bed. I mean really, really good

"So, uh, yeah." Qrow folded the paper, taking more care than necessary, his face a deepening shade of pink.

Clover kneaded the ball of tissues he held in his hands. His cheeks were wet, tears again seeping from his eyes, unheeded this time. He stared at Qrow, as if seeing him for the first time. "Qrow, that was— beautiful. Thank you."

Qrow peered at him from beneath his fringe. "And.. thank you too."

"Well then." The counsellor smiled as she regarded them. "I think real progress has been made today. In the coming week, both of you spend some time reflecting on what you've written, and what the other wrote about you. Don't be afraid to talk about it, to ask each other questions. We'll meet again next week, to see how you're getting on."

Clover rubbed his face. "Thank you, Eva." He looked at Qrow. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah." Qrow smiled at him. "And yeah, thanks, Eva."

The counsellor stood as the two men headed to the door. "You've made a good start, but don't be surprised if there are setbacks. It takes some time to unpick all the problems that have built up over the preceding months. Just keep talking. And listening."

They walked slowly down the corridor.

"Very, very good? Really, really good?" Clover could not help grinning as he looked sidelong at Qrow.

"As if you don't know it, sweet cheeks." Qrow's face had not yet resumed its normal colour.

They stopped to wait for the lift. Clover's hand brushed Qrow's lightly. "How do you feel? Apart from embarrassed?"

There was a _ding_ as the lift arrived. Qrow hesitated, before taking Clover's hand as they stepped in. Clover pressed the button, and the door slid shut.

Qrow reached up, kissing Clover softly on the cheek. "Worn out. Hopeful. In love with you."

"Copy that."

The lift door opened as they reached the ground floor. They walked from the building, hands clasped, sunlight slanting down across their path.

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly comments always appreciated, thank you.
> 
> I've written a follow-up to this: [Ten Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29335941), which is the final entry in the series [Numerically Speaking](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870408).


End file.
